Can't Make an Omelette Without Breaking Some Eggs
by HermioneNCompany
Summary: In anticipation of the battle to come, Hermione implores Harry and Ron to learn more advanced magic while taking her own learning to a whole new level. Sometimes the end justifies the means, even if that means going down a darker path than she planned.
1. Planning Ahead

**A/N -** This story is something I have been thinking about for a while, and I really think Hermione has the brain capacity to see that there is not only a good side using pure magic and an evil side using dark magic. Sometimes, the lines have to blur a little. Sometimes the end justifies the means. Sometimes there is necessary evil.

This story begins a few days before the trio's 7th year starts, during the summer. I am going to sort of pick and chose what I want to stay true from canon in the past 6 books, though most of it will stay the same as the first 6 books, but not the 7th book, obviously. Enjoy, and let me know what you think. If you see any mistakes, it's because it isn't beta'd so please just send a review letting me know and I will fix it. (Speaking of which thanks Nomrabbit, I already fixed the mistakes you mentioned).

**P.S.** The spells and potions you see in here **DO** actually exist in the Harry Potter world, I did a bit of researching. If you don't see it in the 7 books, it is part of her other published works that involves Harry Potter (Ex: _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and_ The Tales of Beedle the Bard_)

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Hermione stared down at the book before her and frowned. She was sitting Indian style on her bed at her parents' home and the book was splayed out across her lap and there were many other books that surrounded her, on the bed and on the floor, all open to some random page so she could cross reference things as she read. All around her room, there were many strange smells wafting towards her, although at this point they all seemed to meld together. Potions of many different colors, textures, and kinds were bubbling in twelve different cauldrons around her room. Some of them were finished potions that had been placed under a stasis spell until she could be bothered to deal with them; however, some were very temperamental and required constant surveillance and additional ingredients. There was only three days until Hogwarts started up again, and she was trying to cram in as much information as she could before classes would take over her life and homework would once again begin to bog her down. She was not currently doing her summer reading or homework, because she had done that within the first two weeks of being back at home for the summer. Alas, she had begun yet another project, being the go-getter (know-it-all) that she was. Her brow furrowed once more and she brought the heavy tome that rested at her right and dropped it on top of the other in her lap. She flipped back a few pages and found the section she was looking for. She squinted at the pages, as her eyesight was beginning to suffer from the hours and hours of reading she had done that night.

"_A witch or wizard's emotional state can affect their inherent abilities."_

Hermione knew this to be true, and she thought back to Harry telling her about Merope Gaunt who showed no magical prowess until removed from the oppressive nature of her father, allowing fear (and possibly inbreeding) to cover up her magic. Then of course there was Tonks, whose Patronus changed form when she was unnecessarily shunned by Professor Lupin, due to her sadness. Not to mention all the spells and curses that require a certain emotion or mindset before they can be used; the Patronus, Crucio, the killing curse, and many others. She continued reading and stopped at another sentence shortly after:

"_Arguably the most powerful form of magic is also the most mysterious and elusive: love."_

This was of particular interest to Hermione as the former headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had seemed a little too keen on the fact that love was the power that Harry had that Voldemort had not. Of course in the sappy sense, love was important in everyday life, for people to be happy, for parents to love their children, and of course for reproducing young witches and wizards. Hermione's mind was in complete "calculation mode", as she called it, where she looked at everything through a researcher's perspective. But what _was_ so important about love for the final battle? Of course it had saved Harry from his death when he was just a baby, when his mother's love had saved him from an almost certain fate. It seemed silly to Hermione though, that this would help much in the final battle, and while it struck her as important that Voldemort's parents had never been in love, as Merope had given Tom Riddle Sr. Amortentia to make him fall for her, it seemed trivial to pursue this line of thinking. Perhaps she would come across some potions or spells in another book that could lead her to a better answer, but for now she would skip this section for more practical ways to defeat Voldemort. She knew that the exact nature of how "love-magic" works is unknown, but she did know that it was studied at the Department of Mysteries, which was beyond her current resources at the moment. The sweet smell of Amortentia floated through her nostrils suddenly, and she got up to check on one of her brewing potions, possibly the most dangerous one in the room.

While she stirred, she thought. Hermione hoped that she had gotten Harry and Ron to see reason at the end of last year on the train ride back to Kings Cross Station. She had implored them, begged really, to see reason. Harry had less than a year before he was of age and things were about to become much more dangerous. He really needed to start thinking about what it truly meant to be 'The Chosen One'. He was the one that was supposed to fight Voldemort and finish him off and it was sure as hell going to take a lot more than one or two Expelliarmus' to defeat him. Harry and Ron had told her that yes of course they would look through the books she gave them on the train, and yes of course they would study up because it was really important. But she wasn't so sure she believed them. They were still growing up, of course, but that did not mean that they did not have responsibilities to uphold. All three of them were still not allowed in The Order, as per Molly Weasley's request, but Hermione's birthday was only 3 weeks away, on September 19th, and she sure as hell wasn't going to wait around any longer than that very day to join the order. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

So here she was, studying up on every book she had ever owned and then some, having snuck off to Diagon Alley twice this summer to procure more books for herself, the subjects of her studies becoming more and more obscure as time progressed. She knew far more spells than many of the other students knew already by the end of the last year, but after having three months to practice many more spells that weren't even studied in Hogwarts, Hermione felt almost sad to be going back to school. This is not to say that she didn't _WANT_ to go back to school, because Hermione Granger really was a know-it-all at heart, but it wasn't because she wanted to show up everyone in her classes like most people thought. It was primarily because what was the point in _not _knowing? Especially when war was upon them. In her opinion, remaining ignorant was just like a muggle going into war with a butter knife, when if he had just practiced enough or looked hard enough, he would have found that machine gun just barely hidden in that pile of junk in the shed.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was already 1 AM and she had gotten up at 6 AM that day to clean the house and then eaten lunch and got down to business on her studying. Wendell and Monica Wilkins, as her parents were now known, were still residing in Australia under their modified memory charm that Hermione had bestowed upon them guiltily, to protect them from Voldemort's wrath. They may as well have lost their baby girl when she went off into the magical world when she was only 11, though, and at least this protected them from harm, and allowed her to get as much done at their empty home (well empty except for Hermione and many, many repelling and protection charms) in as little time as possible without interruption.

Hermione had visited Grimmauld place several times over the summer to visit everyone and to beseech Molly and the other members to just let her join already, as she would be of age very soon. Alas, they would have none of it, which would always lead to Hermione leaving in a huff. No matter, it would happen soon enough and then that would be that. The Amortentia spell could be bottled tomorrow anyway and only needed to simmer for another fourteen hours before it would be in its prime condition to bottle. She would be bottling that as well as six other potions tomorrow and the other five the day after, which is exactly how she planned it. The following day she would be off to the Kings Cross Station and to begin her last year at Hogwarts.

* * *

The next day her alarm went off at precisely 7 am and she yawned sleepily, but quickly hopped up and jumped in the shower. She was naturally a morning person, much to the dismay of Harry and Ron, who in her opinion would likely sleep their life away if it weren't for her harassing them constantly to get moving. When she stepped out of her shower she heard the telltale signs of an owl tap-tapping on her window. She walked over to the window in her thick, white, fluffy towel and unlatched the window, allowing what appeared to be one of the school owls in. It perched on top of her lamp which made her frown a bit in annoyance. She gave it one of the bird treats she had stashed on her dresser and used a letter opener to break the waxy maroon Hogwarts seal on the letter. The letter was addressed to her from the Headmistress.

"_Miss Hermione Granger,_

_I must say I was surprised to receive your owl yesterday. I had thought that you would have been thrilled at the prospect of being the Head Girl this year. However, I do understand where you are coming from and I am very proud that you want to take such an initiative in helping Mr. Potter with his quest, although I can see where you will have your work cut out for you on that matter. I have given the position to another girl, but please know that I think you would have made a wonderful Head Girl. _

_P.S. I hope you have managed to register yourself rather than trying to hide from the rules like a certain Daily Prophet reporter._

_Looking forward to seeing you on September 1__st__,_

_Minerva McGonagall _

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Hermione chuckled warmly to herself as she opened the window back up to allow the large barn owl to escape out the window before locking the latch once more. There would be no need for a response to this letter, as she would be seeing the Headmistress in just a few days time. It was true; McGonagall had offered her the Head Girl position, which was something that Hermione had only dreamed about since she was a first year. In hindsight it seemed only obvious that Hermione would be offered the badge, though she tried to remain open-minded in case she didn't receive it after all. Of course, she knew she had the best grades in the school and she wasn't a total pompous ass like most of the Slytherin girls were. She also had a relatively friendly demeanor and was very fair-minded (usually), so she supposed it was only natural that the position would come to her. And while her heart swelled with pride upon seeing the offer in the mail a few days ago, she almost immediately let out a sigh and got out a spare bit of parchment to write her letter of declination.

Indeed, while she would have loved to fulfill those duties bestowed upon her, she just honestly didn't think she had the time this year. Not only would she be studying up on every known magical spell, curse, hex, potion, and other strange matters of magic she could think of in her spare time, she would also have to be harassing Harry and Ron about it, doing homework, going to classes, and studying for her NEWTS at the end of the year. Not to mention that she had begun the process of transforming herself into an animal, a process known as becoming and Animagus (this was the registration McGonagall was referring to, of course). That is, if something outrageous didn't happen before the end of the year, as was apt to happen. Of course this offer was one in a million or, okay, one in all the females in her year at least, chance and would surely be great to put on her resume for after school, it just wasn't the practical thing to do at the moment. If Hermione was anything, it was practical.

She stowed the letter on top of her dresser and proceeded to get dressed. She returned to her potions and began to siphon the finished ones into little vials where she would keep them in her new potions carrier that she picked up from her last trip to Diagon Alley. To be honest she had actually had to go a bit into Knockturn Alley to get this because she couldn't find one in all of Diagon Alley, which she thought was preposterous. She had seven potions to finish up and siphon off into many vials, over the next six hours.

The first was a Beatification Potion. A Beautification Potion transforms the appearance of the drinker, making them seem to be attractive, even if they are not. This potion was a last minute decision of Hermione's, because although she scoffed at why most people would use it, it seemed like it could come in handy for one reason or another, if not just to get answers out of some weak minded man who only thought about looks and his own desires.

The second was a Befuddlement Draught. A Befuddlement Draught is a type of potion which causes the drinker to become belligerent and reckless. She added the last bit of Sneezewort and waited until it gave off a strange squeal before she started her collection. There was also, of course, a reasonably simple befuddlement hex that could be performed in its stead, but this was just in case she couldn't cast the spell unknowingly or perhaps didn't have her wand. Better safe than sorry, at any rate.

The third was a standard blood replenishing potion, because after all, when would you know when you'd need one of those?

The fourth was Bundimun Secretion (or Bundimun Ooze) which is a magical substance, produced by the Bundimun, known to be an extremely acidic substance that can rot a building's structure. When diluted, the secretions of the Bundimun are known to be used in some magical cleaning products. Although, it could be presumed that Hermione wasn't brewing this for some light cleaning.

The fifth was the Draught of Living Death. The potion was lilac in color before she stirred it counter-clockwise seven times and clockwise once and watched as the color became lighter and lighter until it resembled the clear shade of water. The Draught of Living Death was a very strong sleeping potion meant to mimic the state of death. _'This could certainly come in handy at one point,' _Hermione thought to herself.

The sixth was the antidote to the above potion, The Wiggenweld Potion. They never learned to brew this in school and she wondered why. The dittany she had to procure for this had cost her more than she'd cared to admit, so that was probably one reason it wasn't given freely to students.

The seventh and trickiest to brew in its final stages was of course, Amortentia. Although, as Hermione hadn't had much else to do over the summer besides trying to hover around order meetings, sass Harry and Ron, and study, she had correctly brewed the potion with painstaking attention to detail. She successfully siphoned the rest of it up and scourgified the cauldron it had once been in. She placed the last of her now-full vials into her potions container and wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. Her room smelled absolutely horrendous, and she went to open the windows before stepping out of her bedroom and jumping in the shower once more as she smelled like dung beetles and many other things that no one, except perhaps Severus Snape, wanted to smell like.

When she was done she popped off the kitchen for some much needed lunch and fed her very hungry and irritated half-kneazle, Crookshanks. He was used to being fed much earlier, but it must have slipped her mind this morning, much to his chagrin. She patted his head lovingly and he gave her the stink-eye.

She had thought about taking a nice walk outside this afternoon, but as she looked outside she saw that dark, ominous looking clouds were beginning to quickly move in from the East and a storm was surely brewing. She sighed deeply once more, for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day. If only things were easy. If only there were no bad side and no good side and no one wanted to fight each other. _If only, if only._ The clouds were having a depressing effect on her mood as she stared out her kitchen window for longer than she intended to, waiting for the first droplet to hit her window pane as she fell deeper into her thoughts. She knew this battle wouldn't be easy, and although she really did like to learn, she really didn't want to be doing this on her own. She knew Harry would need Ron and herself as much, if not more than, the rest of the order. She really wished they would take this more seriously, but if they wouldn't, she certainly would.

As the first droplet of water fell from the darkened sky, she retreated once more to her bedroom and opened up a very large and very old book. It was so old, in fact, that the back cover had completely fallen off and the title wasn't even readable. This book was the only one she had not opened all summer, actually. It had rested quietly, not exactly forgotten about, but more-so avoided, in the far corner of her room for two months now. She listened to the quiet bubbling and hissing sounds of the remaining five potions in her room and the pitter-patter of rain drops hitting her bedroom window as she opened up this last book. She had gotten it at the spur of the moment seven or eight weeks ago. She saw it in the dirty window of the shop that lies on the corner of the intersection of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. It was a debatably dark shop, but as it lay so close to Diagon Alley, only a few people gave her shifty looks as she walked inside to retrieve the book. She knew she could be messing with something dark here, but the stormy gray clouds outside were influencing her mood, and what could a little bit of research harm?


	2. The Return

**A/N – Let me know if I make any errors, spelling or book-wise and I'll fix them right up. Thanks for reviewing, I appreciate it. I haven't written in a while so reviews help to let me know if I should keep this story going or not. It may start out slow, but I have to set the story you know! :P Thanks a bunch, enjoy.**

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Hermione spent the previous evening scouring over the hefty, aged tome before finally going to sleep very late into the night. As she lay in bed, her mind was reeling with all kinds of new information and it was difficult for her to go to sleep at all. She finally ended up taking a dreamless sleep potion just to get her forty winks for the night. The book was remarkable, to say the least. It drew her attention and certainly kept it. That is not to say that the other books that she had been immersed in over the summer weren't important or interesting; it was just that she had never dared to read a book like this. It was not _necessarily_ a dark book, per say, but it was undeniably no school book. If another copy of this book existed anywhere in Hogwarts, there was no doubt in her mind that it would only exist in the Restricted Section. It was a common fact, however, that all 6th and 7th years had access to the Restricted Section without having to have a note from a teacher, like all of the younger students. Hermione now felt like she would be in their more than she previously anticipated, after having read parts of this.

The fact remained; Voldemort was stronger than he had ever been and if the battle at the ministry in their 5th year was anything to go by, they all needed to bone up not only their defensive spells and their school spell work, but much, much more. The Death Eaters knew too many obscure and dark spells that Harry, Ron, nor she could never even fathom. Hell, even the order probably didn't know many of the spells they used, especially since they were so determined not to use dark magic. If the order hadn't showed up just in the nick of time that day in the Department of Mysteries, there surely would have been dire consequences.

She pondered a bit more while she groggily made her way to feed Crookshanks before he became too angry at her again and decided to hold a grudge. The Death Eaters didn't give two shits about whether one another survived, so it made fighting for the 'light' side a bit more traumatic, where there is always the trace of worry for your comrades on your mind's periphery. Hermione had already lost enough people in this war, Dumbledore, Sirius, and her parents in a way, since she wouldn't be able to see them for an indefinite amount of time. She knew that Harry had lost even more family and friends, and although she knew that he had done at least _some_ studying (from her infrequent visits to Grimmauld Place), she really didn't think he was doing everything he could. Didn't he want to end this war? Didn't he want to stop losing everyone he holds dear and live a better life?

_Bah. _She was going over the same things in her head that she went over every day, so she decided to put it out of her mind. After feeding her gluttonous cat, she immediately went upstairs to take care of the remaining five potions that were stinking up her room. It was a wonder she could have even slept through that at all. She decided to wait for her shower until after she was done getting filthy from the days' potion brewing.

The first potion of the day was under a stasis spell, already finished. The infamous Felix Felicis. She knew this potion wasn't legal to brew, but desperate times call for desperate measures. To be honest she had started brewing this potion months ago, as it takes a full six months to brew. It was the most desperately tricky potion she had ever made, yet it appeared to be the correct color and consistency as the book showed and yet she was still worried something could had gone wrong. This potion of course was also called "liquid luck", because it makes the drinker lucky for a period of time, depending on how much is taken, during which everything they attempt will be successful. It is meant to be used sparingly, however, as it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence if taken in excess and is highly toxic in large quantities. However, she had not brewed all of this for herself: it was to be evenly distributed amongst those who would need it for the evil that was to come. She let out a deep sigh when she had finished siphoning it up, storing it carefully, and scourgifying the cauldron before moving onto the next one.

The second potion was a Girding Potion. After she added the last of the doxy eggs and waited for it to simmer for five minutes and then finished that one up as well. The Girding potion is, of course, used to increase endurance. She considered an invigoration draught instead, but decided against it due to lack of supplies. Either way this could come in handy at some point in the future, of that she was sure.

The Third potion was Murtlap Essence, which healed up cuts and bruises and soothed the body, just in case anyone got into trouble it seemed like something she should have on hand. This one had only taken three days to brew and was the easiest out of all the potions she had brewed all summer. After bottling it and cleaning up, she moved onto the next and most putrid smelling one of all.

This smelly concoction was the infamous Polyjuice potion. She had already made this once before, in her 2nd year, so it was one that she felt particularly confident about. In fact, she had made triple the amount that she had made back then, ensuring multiple uses, whenever she or perhaps someone in the order, may need it.

The fifth and final potion (and thank Merlin too because her mind was still swimming from all the smells) was as still as glass inside the cauldron. There was not a single bubble disturbing its placid contents and the liquid was crystal clear, colorless, and odorless. This particular potion had been brewing for an entire lunar phase and was almost as tricky as Felix to make. Veritaserum is, of course, a very powerful truth serum. The potion effectively forces the drinker to answer any questions put to them truthfully, though there is an antidote to it and also those skilled in Occlumency can thwart its effects. Naturally, this was also a controlled substance according to the Ministry of Magic, but (and she couldn't believe she was saying this) rules were meant to broken, sometimes.

Opening up her window once more to let the last of the fumes out, Hermione headed to the shower to clean up. She was glad all of those were finally out of her room and just in the nick of time for her to pack up all of her belongings and get to Grimmauld Place tonight, so she could go with everyone else to Kings Cross tomorrow morning.

* * *

"Hermione, dear, you're looking rather peckish," Molly Weasley admonished, as Hermione stepped foot into the kitchen of Grimmauld place. "Come on over here and get yourself some of my Shepherd's Pie".

Hermione did as she was told, and upon taking her second bite Fred and George burst through the kitchen door singing something about the womping willow and a brothel. When they finally spotted her, she had already braced herself for the onslaught of friendly attacks. Fred came over and sat on her left, grabbing her spoon and taking the bite of food she was just about to put in her mouth. Meanwhile, George jumped over the bench to her right and hit the table with his shin, causing him to howl out in pain and let out a string of expletives. In the interim, Fred was startled by George's outburst and choked on his spoon, sending bits of carrot flying all over the table. Fred stopped shrieking with pain long enough to roughly hit his brother on the back, while simultaneously jostling Hermione, who was still in between them. Molly started yelling for them to 'just behave, already!', when the door to the kitchen swung open again.

Remus Lupin, her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor entered, followed closely behind by Harry and then Ron. They were in the middle of a conversation about the difference between transfiguring a human body into an animal and an actual Animagus transformation, but they quickly noticed her, partially due to her large hair, and partially due to the commotion that Fred and George were still causing.

"Hermione! Why didn't you tell us you'd gotten in?" Ron yelled, who grabbed an already made-up bowl of Shepherd's Pie, and sat down across from the three of them. Harry closely followed, and Remus went to talk to Molly near the stove.

"I had only just arrived when, well you know how Molly is," she explained, nodding to the food in front of her. Fred let out one last loud cough, and then belched loudly. George, of course, began to clap.

"Hey Won-Won, where's your snuggle buddy?" George implored Ron, snickering. Hermione looked up at him questioningly.

"What snuggle buddy…?" Hermione asked slowly.

"Yea, go ahead and tell her Won-Won!" Fred roared with laughter.

"Quit calling me that! I don't know how you two idiots found out that wretched nickname, but as soon as I find o—"Ron began but Harry cut him off.

"Ginny thought it would be cute to get Ron a Pygmy Puff as a gift, although no one knows if it was an honest gift or just her own personal joke. The thing is, it's obsessed with him now and won't leave him alone!" Harry barked out a laugh and Hermione grinned.

Ron scowled. "It's not funny. I have to lock the bloody thing in a cage now or it follows me everywhere!"

Hermione was trying not to laugh, "Oh Ron, why don't you just take it back to your brothers' joke shop when you get the chance?"

"Why don't I just…Hey! That's a good idea!" Ron said, a grin spreading out on his face.

"Sorry little brother," Fred began, smirking.

"No refunds, and no returns," George finished, flicking one of the spit up bits of carrot on the table at him. Ron grumbled out loud and stabbed at his pie violently. Harry laughed out loud and turned to Hermione.

"Hey Hermione, how's your Animagus transformation coming along?" Harry implored. The room got quiet rather quickly and Hermione squirmed a little in her seat. Ever Lupin was looking at her, waiting for an answer.

'_Of course he'd be interested', _Hermione thought to herself, '_Although I doubt I'll be able to help him out with his transformation much like his friends did back in school.'_

"It's going alright, my tail has really started taking form, but it's still a bit lumpy and fleshy looking. I grew whiskers the other day, which was pretty weird feeling, and I could smell the fish from my neighbor's kitchen, too. So, I'd say it's coming along nicely," Hermione said modestly, looking down at her pie and taking another bite, her cheeks turning red. She was saved from further conversation when Harry turned to Lupin.

"Is it true that your Animagus form can't be chosen? Like it's always going to be what you're Patronus takes the form of?" He asked his former professor, cocking one brow.

Lupin cleared his throat once before speaking, "Well, I don't exactly have firsthand experience, since I never practiced to become an Animagus, but as to my knowledge you cannot chose the form of your Patronus, nor of your Animagus form. It is very likely that they will be the same type of animal, as was your father's stag, Harry. Unless some kind of emotional turmoil affects you or some kind of magic unbeknownst to me occurs, I'm pretty sure you can't change what it is either."

Harry turned to Hermione, "So yours is an otter then, right?"

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly.

"Wicked," George and Fred exclaimed in unison.

And that was how the rest of her night went at Grimmauld Place. It was a nice, somewhat relaxing evening with her two favorite boys (and sometimes her other two favorite boys, George and Fred). Even Ginny popped by for a while and perched herself rather close to Harry, who didn't seem to mind one bit. Ron seemed to have forgotten his grudge against Ginny for the time being, until she mysteriously disappeared for an hour or so, only to return with Pomegranate, the Pygmy Puff. The tiny little pink and purple puff zoomed out of her hand and hopped over to Ron and perched on his knee, and then on his shoulder, and then on his head. It let out high pitched little 'Puff's' every so often, which made everyone snicker, except Ron who looked mortified. Hermione finally retreated to her room near midnight, so that she would be ready for the train by morning.

Once she had put on her pajamas and climbed into bed, Hermione propped herself up on her elbow and muttered "Lumos" to light up the tip of her wand. She pulled the old, decrepit book out in front of her and resumed reading where she left off earlier that day.

* * *

"Hurry up Ron, or all the good ones are gonna be taken!" Harry rushed along the aisle of The Hogwarts Express, looking for an empty compartment to sit in.

"They're all the same Harry, you should know that by now," Hermione admonished, but chuckled all the same. She was following behind them, albeit at a much slower pace. _Honestly, there was no need to rush._

Harry finally found an empty compartment a little farther ahead and Ron followed him inside. There was a bit of congestion in the aisle way so Hermione had to wait behind some students, tapping her foot. Due to all the muttering ahead of her, apparently all the congestion was due to something involving Neville getting into a fight, which didn't make any sense at all. Figuring this could take a while, Hermione magicked her old dusty book out of her bag and propped it open, flipping ahead to the page she was currently at.

After only a minute, there were a couple yells and a noisy commotion down the aisle but nothing could be seen through the swarm of students blocking her path. Hermione looked up just in time to see students being roughly pushed aside, some into the walls of the train, and some stumbling into open compartments if the doors were open. She moved to the left side of the hallway in time to see a young man with platinum blonde hair appear through the crowd looking murderous. Her eyebrows shot into her forehead at the sight of him. _He shouldn't be here!_ He roughly pushed past her, slamming his shoulder into her own, causing her to drop her fragile book on the floor in her shock. He stopped momentarily to turn around to berate her, when he saw her picking up the aforementioned book. He took one look at it, then looked back at her, then looked at it again. He closed his mouth and stared at her. She stared back.

_What the bloody hell is he doing here?_ She thought angrily to herself.

_What the bloody hell is the mudblood doing with a book like that?_ His mind spat.

He watched as she used wandless magic to conjure a new, dark blue cover for her book. She shot him a nasty look, turned on her heel, and marched down the aisle to where Harry and Ron were surely waiting for her.

Draco sneered and turned around, striding towards the opposite end of the train. _This year is going to fucking suck. _

"Did you two see that blond ferret?" Hermione shrieked, upon entering the compartment with Harry and Ron. Ron was already furiously stuffing a pumpkin pasty in his mouth and Harry was so red in the face, no one would be surprised to see steam pouring out of his ears. Hermione threw her luggage on the rack, and gently pushed Crookshanks' carrier next to it. She could see him evilly eyeing Pomegranate's cage. She set her book down and plopped herself down next to Ron. "What in the world do you think he's doing, showing his traitor face around here?"

"Oh believe me, we saw the little twit!" Harry fumed. "He's back! He's bloody back for his 7th year!"

"How is that even possible, Harry, with what happened last year with Dumbledore on the tower?" Hermione implored.

"Erishtershrm," Ron said through a mouth full of pasty.

"Ronald how many times have I told you not to -"Hermione began.

"Veritaserum!" Ron exclaimed, after swallowing. "The Ministry used truth serum on him and found out that he _apparently _was being coerced by You-Know-Who to kill Dumbledore. If Malfoy didn't do it, he was going to kill his mum. Personally, I think it's a load of –"

"Bullocks!" Harry finished at the same time. "He must have lied. I don't know how, but there's no way… I just can't believe it. I won't."

Hermione just said, "Hmm," and left it at that. She'd have to think about this further, but later. To be honest, Malfoy was going to have a hell of a time trying to fit in around Hogwarts anymore, what with all the people who were loyal to Dumbledore. Threat or no threat, almost killing one of the best and most loved wizards of all time was not the best way to make friends. He should have just gone to Durmstrang, either way, the little ferret. Anyway, Hermione had bigger things to worry about than Malfoy.

"Did you two study up anymore? I really think you need to think about what you're going to do Harry, you need a plan," Hermione said in her authoritative voice.

The boys groaned. This was going to be a long train trip. First Malfoy shows up and now Hermione was harassing them. Although, perhaps she was right; even if they were just 16, they needed to start focusing on saving the world and all that. Reluctantly, they retrieved two of the books that Hermione had gotten them at the beginning of the summer and began to read. Hermione smiled and pulled her book into her lap, hiding its pages from their eyesight. She didn't think they would approve of slightly less than honorable spell work, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

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**Review! :D**

**P.S. You will find out some of the stuff that's in her book in the next chapter.**


	3. Grym Beginnings

**A/N: I know there hasn't been much going on yet, but I'm trying not to rush it. Here there will be some of the things about the book she's been reading, so sorry if there's too much "literary text" or whatever. I'm still debating on whether or not I want to continue with this story; I rather like the idea of Hermione turning to be dark, but I have only gotten a few reviews, so we'll see how it goes :/**

**P.S. Thanks Bunneh018, I edited the discrepancies you pointed out, I appreciate it!  
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**Enjoy, and again let me know if there are any mistakes! Thanks to the people who reviewed, it means a lot :]**

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Chapter 3

The welcoming feast went by in a blur; fewer first years were sorted than in the past hundred years due to the heightened fear of the magical community. Hermione's mind was boggled as to why there would be less, rather than more students enrolling this year. Hogwarts was still safer than almost anywhere else, even if Death Eaters had managed to get into Hogwarts the previous spring. The vanishing cabinets had of course been destroyed and all the secret passageways as well. _Ah well, this is what fear does to the masses. _The headmistress stood for the introductory speech, though for many students, it just didn't seem right without Dumbledore dragging on and on until everyone had lost their patience. The headmistress, on the other hand, kept her words fairly short. She warned everyone about the dangers of the upcoming war, as if everyone wasn't already on high alert. With teary eyes, she very briefly touched on the previous year's tragedy and loss of the greatest headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen, Albus Dumbledore. She then, of course, mentioned all of the forbidden things that had now reached a startling 746 items and could be viewed in its entirety in Filch's office. It was also announced that there would be extra security measures this year both within the castle and on the grounds. Students from year one to year five were now required to be back in their dorms by 9 pm, and years six and seven by 10 pm. The exceptions were the prefects and the Head Girl and Head Boy, who were announced to be Blaise Zabini from Slytherin and Padma Patil of Ravenclaw who were allowed to be out until 11 for patrols. Patrols would now be done in pairs for security reasons.

Additional notes mentioned were that grief counseling would be available by a ministry trained professional that had added wards attached to Poppy's in the infirmary area. Professor Slughorn was welcomed back to take over the potions position for the year, until another more permanent professor could be procured. He waved jovially and very obviously winked at Harry and Hermione from the Head's table as polite applause sounded throughout the Great Hall. McGonagall then announced what everyone had been wondering; the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was… someone they had never even seen before. Somewhat anticlimactically, the new professor, Professor Grym stood up and waved robotically and silently to the students and with very little emotion. His black hair hung to his ears and even from far away, it could be seen that he had a rather piercing gaze. The students nervously clapped, wondering what was wrong with _this _one. He sat back down fluidly and resumed staring off into space. Hermione cast Harry and Ron a look, and they returned it, shrugging.

After the rather depressing introduction, the students dug into their meal, albeit with less enthusiasm than the previous years. There was just something so wrong about having the welcoming feast without a long flowing beard to welcome them. Hermione ate lightly while Harry and Ron stuffed their faces, as per the norm. After a while of small talk with the other members of her house, she stood up to leave the feast.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Harry asked with a drumstick in his hand and perplexed look on his face.

"I'm going up to Gryffindor tower," she said, eyeing the great hall doors.

"But dessert isn't even here," Ron stated, "You can't just _leave."_

"I, uh, have a headache. I'd rather just have a lie in, you know?" Hermione lied, not smoothly, but she was talking to possibly the most unobservant person in the entire universe, after all.

"People don't just leave the feast early! It's blasphemy!" Ron exclaimed, causing quite a few people to turn their way.

"Some of us, Ronald, don't need to stuff our faces full every time we're not sucking in air or spitting out Quidditch facts," Hermione said a little harshly. Really she just wanted to go up and read her book, which she was unable to do on the train due to the watchful eyes of the rest of the trio. Ron began to mutter through his mashed potatoes and Harry just shook his head.

"Alright Hermione, whatever you say," Harry said.

"Thanks, I'll see you guys bright and early at breakfast when we get our schedules," she said with a smile on her face. She turned to go when she felt eyes on her back. She turned her head to see who it was, but couldn't find anyone. Shrugging, she left the great hall and walked briskly up to Gryffindor Tower. She performed her nightly activities and fed Crookshanks, who bless his heart, had left a severed rats head on the floor in the middle of her room. She quickly banished it and awkwardly patted the little killer on the head before jumping into bed, flipping on her lamp and opening up her book.

_Parseltongue is the language of snakes. It is an ancient language that was formed perhaps thousands of years ago, though the exact date is debated by historians. There are no formal records as to whether or not this skill was a naturally occurring mutation in the wizarding population or if it was due to a long-forgotten spell that changed the DNA in one individual. If this allele was a heritable trait, then it could pass down throughout generations, seemingly only to those individuals who were related to the original carrier__. It is, in the common mind, associated with Dark Magic although, it is not necessarily an "evil" or dark quality. The stigma began with one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Salazar Slytherin who was one of the most well known Parselmouths. His desire to allow only those of pure and noble blood to attend Hogwarts, as well as some of his other less-than-publicly-acceptable deeds and use of dark magic started the myth as modern day witches and wizards know it. Those possessing the ability to speak it are very rare, however, contrary to popular belief, it is a skill that can be acquired through both learning or via a method of xenoglossia. Xenoglossia is a__phenomenon in which a person is able to speak or write a language he or she could not have acquired by "natural" means, such as through genetic inheritance or through dark magic. _

Hermione recalled that Harry mentioned that Dumbledore was actually a partial Parselmouth, having heard him speak it to one of the shiny, spinning, silver instruments in his office, one day. She pondered over whether learning Parseltongue would be beneficial to her for any reason, noting that Harry already spoke it, so perhaps he would be enough. Although there was Nagini to consider…

She filed it away in her brain for later consideration and returned to her book. It offered a number of texts to cross reference if wanting to pursue the dreadfully difficult task of learning Parseltongue. She marked down a few pages and skipped to the next section.

_Flight__ without aid of a broomstick or other object is a relatively rare ability, and the only known references to those possessing the ability have been dark wizards. It has been speculated that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is one of the few that have this exceptional ability, though it is only rumored. It is stated that flying unsupported defies the laws of magic, as only objects are known to float with a flying charm._

While Hermione found this interesting and possibly something to look into if she had more time, she moved on to the next section, having been eager to get to this part.

_Legilimency__ is the magical skill of extracting feelings and memories from another person's mind. Muggles seem to be aware of this ability and it is often speculated that they may be able to perform this to some extent, although frequently, reported cases turn out to be a hoax. Muggles refer to this as "telepathy" or "mind-reading", although many practitioners of the art, dismiss this informal term as a severe oversimplification. Legilimency also allows one to convey visions or memories to another witch or wizard, whether real or invented. A witch or wizard possessing this skill is called a __Legilimens,__ and can, for example, detect lies and deceit in another person, witness memories in another person's past, or "plant" false visions in another's mind. This skill is very invasive, however, with practice a person can become so skilled that an unsuspecting person or one that is highly distracted, may never notice that someone else is picking through his or her mind._

_The counter-skill to Legilimency is __Occlumency__, and its user is known as an __Occlumens__. Occlumency is an art by which one can catalog one's emotions, or prevent a Legilimens from discovering thoughts or memories which contradict one's spoken words or actions. This skill is more used as a defense mechanism to shield one's own thoughts and ideas. A witch or wizard who is skilled in Occlumency may not have to put forth much effort to sustain a shield that lasts throughout the day, and even when asleep. An advanced form of Occlumency is planting false temporary memories inside an Occlumens´ own head while blocking all other true memories. So, if a Legilimens, even a highly skilled one, were to attempt to read the mind he or she would find false memories only and believe everything was accurate. _

Hermione pondered this information; she knew this is how Snape was able to lie for so many years without being killed, and while this unnerved her, it did prove that even V-Voldemort or Dumbledore could be subject to trickery by a master of these arts. She read further.

_It seems that not everyone is able to master Occlumency. This is especially the case if a witch or wizard is unable to detach his or herself from his or her emotions. Highly irrational or emotional individuals or individuals with little patience will have a very hard time mastering this skill. However, while this is an advanced form of magic, a young wizard can learn to be an Occlumens or a Legilimens with much practice, focus, and determination. _

Well, this certainly seemed like something she would like to become better at. It was unfortunate that Dumbledore was dead, and sort of unfortunate that Snape had fled the scene of the crime, because they were the best two Legilimens/Occlumens' that she knew. Surely there was someone in this castle who could help her… If not, she would need to figure something out, and she knew exactly where she would be heading tomorrow afternoon after she finished her classes and homework: The library. She made several notes outlining more about the subject and copied down the other books it referenced on where to begin practicing for this. She wondered if she would find these in the library or the Restricted Section, or if she'd have to look elsewhere. Perhaps she would go to the Room of Requirement…

After reading for another half hour on the subject, and taking several rolls of parchments worth of notes, she moved on to the next and last section of the night.

_Apparition__ is a magical form of teleportation, through which a witch or wizard can disappear, or "__Disapparate__", from one location and reappear, "__Apparate__", in another. It is sometimes accompanied by a characteristic cracking or popping sound, though this is associated with incompetence of the skill. The most accomplished wizards can Apparate so suddenly and silently that they seem to have appeared with the wind. Apparition is not a skill that every witch or wizard learns, and even if they do learn it, it may not be the preferred method of travel. This is due to the fact that it is accompanied by a disagreeable constricting feeling, as though being sent through a thin rubber tube._

_Apparition is usually taught by ministry officials and a test must be taken at the witch or wizards 17__th__ birthday or thereafter. Many schools offer lessons for apparition._

_It is also possible to prevent individuals from using Apparition, by using a rather strong anti-apparition ward or by casting certain spells on specific individuals. These are usually temporary in effect and must be consistently reinforced unless a magical object has been enchanted to work as a constant field of magic to halt Apparition. _

Luckily, Hermione had already practiced the previous year, her 6th, when the ministry officials came to teach everyone. In fact, Hermione hadn't found it very difficult at all and had managed quite a bit earlier than most of her other classmates. She just had to wait a few more weeks and she could take the official ministry test and be able to 'pop' around with the best of them. Or hopefully she'd get good enough to not 'pop' at all.

Hermione yawned. She was getting sleepy and found that she had been reading for nearly four hours and it was already creeping past midnight. Crookshanks was curled up at the foot of her bed for his middle-of-the-night nap, before he got up to cause more death and destruction to the local rat population. She rubbed her eyes groggily and marked her place in her book. She set it carefully on her nightstand and reached over to turn off her bedside lamp.

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"What do you mean we have to take potions again?" Ron grumbled, looking at his schedule and furtively leaning over towards Hermione's, as if to see if this was some kind of joke.

"What do you mean, what do you mean we have to take potions again?" Harry asked, groaning at his own schedule. "I thought you wanted to be an Auror, of course we have to take bloody Potions. At least that git isn't still here." The git being referenced was obviously Severus Snape.

"You don't really know what happened up there Harry," Hermione began, but was silenced by a very strong look from The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"I know what I saw. Snape killed him. I don't care if the ferret couldn't do it, whatever, he'll probably die in this war anyway," Harry spit out, stabbing a sausage on his plate as if it had done him a great personal wrong.

"Harry, what if Snape –"

"No, Hermione. I've heard you say it before, and there's nothing that can change my mind. Snape was a bloody git to me every time I have ever seen him. He was a git to everyone else, and he killed Dumbledore. You should have seen his face, you'd know. You'd know what I'm talking about."

Ron nodded fervently beside him, but was rendered speechless due to the inconceivable amount of eggs in his mouth.

Harry pressed on, "And don't you think if he was so "good" or there was some "misunderstanding" about why he killed Dumbledore in cold blood, that we would have, oh I don't know, maybe _seen him around? _Even just once to tell us what happened?"

"Harry did you ever stop to think that maybe the Order _does _know something that perhaps they haven't told you? Or maybe he can't—"Hermione began, but just decided to give up for the time being. She knew how her friends were in matters such as these.

Hermione sighed somewhat dramatically and left the conversation where it was. She had to get to class anyway and there was no way these two dunderhead friends of hers would ever listen to reason until it beat them over the head. Honestly, would she always have to do all the thinking?

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"You will be working in groups of four until winter break. No you cannot choose your groups. No you cannot change the groups I put you in. No you cannot hoist all the work on one of the team members, if you try, you will fail. I will be casting a charm to make sure an equal amount of work is done between the four of you. There will be some hands on assignments and there will be some project work and other assignments. If someone starts slacking off, you better figure out a way to get them to do better, because it will be all of your grades on the line," Professor Grym announced impassively during the first lecture of the year in Defense Against the Dark Arts that day. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the NEWT level Gryffindor 7th years cast looks at each other. Across the clearly segregated room, the Slytherin 7th year NEWT students did the same. Then they cast grimaces towards the Gryffindors, as if knowing this wouldn't be good and it was all their fault.

"Since I don't know you well enough to assign groups based on your personalities or magical prowess, the Headmistress has granted me permission to use the Sorting Hat as a way to separate you into appropriate groups," He explained, brandishing the hat and flipping it upside down. The Sorting Hat looked rather affronted at this manhandling, but remained silent. "Please form a line and come up to pull a number out of the hat. There are sixteen of you so there will be four groups in total. Hurry up now."

Hermione, of course, was the first to reach the Professor and the hat. She smiled meekly at him, but his piercing blue eyes did not waver, and he did not crack a grin. He flickered his eyes down to the hat for a split second and then back at her, as if saying _"Well? You know what to do."_

Hermione quickly reached her hand in and grabbed a bit of parchment. Number 3, it is then.

Harry pulled out a number 1. _Damn._

Blaise pulled out a 1 as well.

Hannah Abbot, the only Hufflepuff in the room due to a scheduling difficulty, got a 3. _Well, she's alright._

Dean Thomas got a 4.

Ron got a 1. _Bloody lucky bastard._

Malfoy got a 3. _Why me, why me, why me?_

And so on, and so forth. In the end, Harry and Ron ended up together, to which they whooped and hollered for a good five minutes, before finally casting apologetic looks at Hermione who was looking rather downtrodden. Blaise and Theodore Nott were also in their group, to which they looked less than pleased. However, it couldn't be any worse than…

Malfoy.

_Why? _Sure, Hannah was okay, a little quiet maybe, and there was always Seamus Finnigan. They were both in her house, of course, a point she felt both good and bad about at the same time. On one hand, at least they weren't Slytherins. Also, just to see Malfoy seething at his predicament for the next four months was enough to make her day. However, at this very moment, Hannah and Seamus were playing footsie with one another and making googly eyes. It was, quite frankly, making her nauseous. This whole table was making her nauseous, honestly. A stupid good-for-nothing ferret and two annoying lovebirds. _This day already couldn't get much worse._

"Alright for today's lesson you need to pair up within your group," Professor Grym said. "No complaining."

_Alright, so maybe it could._

Hannah shyly looked at Seamus and he stood up to help her out of her chair. It was disgusting. Hermione just turned her head towards her professor, already knowing her fate, but not quite yet willing to look it in the eyes.

"I need each group to go stand in a separate corner of the room," the professor said, waiting for them to reluctantly do as they were told. His black hair hung in his face and he pushed it out of the way. When all the students were in their respective corners he vanished all of the desks and their belongings.

Hermione began to protest immediately, "Hey, my stuff!" But, the professor just held up a hand.

"I assure you, your belongings are safe," he said without expression.

"Now, I want to see what all you have. Your spell work, your agility, your ability to work as a team, and your inventiveness will all play an important role in this assignment. You will be working with your partner to incapacitate the other pair in front of you. I don't want any funny business. No painful spells, and no dark magic or anything of the like, got it? I will assess you from my desk. Duel until one pair is entirely incapacitated. Remember to bow to your opponents. You may begin."

Everyone bowed, but then for a full five seconds no one moved. The instructions were fairly vague, and they hadn't even had time to discuss a strategy with their partners. Most of them didn't even _know _anything about their partners. Some of them _hated _their partners, in fact.

The first person to act was Malfoy.

"Confundus!" Malfoy yelled out, swishing his wand towards Seamus who was one of the many students who was too bewildered by the indistinct instructions to have acted yet. The spell quickly took effect and he started scratching his head, lowering his wand arm, and looked around confused.

The rest of the room then broke out into a series of spells and bright lights. Hannah looked over at Seamus and took a moment too long trying to figure out how to fix the situation, when Malfoy struck again.

"Duro!" the Slytherin shouted, causing Hannah to simply turn to stone in front of them, caught unaware. Seamus didn't seem to notice anything was out of the ordinary.

"Stupefy!" Draco finished, sending a red stream of light towards Seamus, and he simply fell over on the ground, unconscious. Malfoy pocketed his wand and turned around. Hermione hadn't even moved. She didn't know what to do, really. She didn't know Malfoy at all, and what she did know, she loathed. She didn't know how to work with him, nor want to. And then in a matter of four seconds (she counted), her opponents and fellow Gryffindor's were incapacitated in front of them.

The professor was already making his way over to their corner, as they were obviously the first to complete the task, when Malfoy took the opportunity to sneer at Hermione. In a low voice, "Good work, know-it-all. Where are your books now?"

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**Review and let me know if I should continue this story or not :]**


	4. Explanations and Propositions

**A/N: I appreciate all the reviews I got last chapter, I wasn't so sure if I should continue or not so you guys really helped out. Also thanks for letting me know that I mixed up some students and said they were in the wrong house. Any other grammatical errors or factual errors are very welcome to be pointed out, and I'll change them ASAP! This isn't beta'd so… yea. Remember to review, my dear readers! At the request of some reviewers, I made this one a bit longer. Read and enjoy :]**

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Chapter 4

About a week had passed and Hermione found that she was very glad that she had not taken McGonagall up on her offer of Head Girl. The sheer amount of homework that the professors were giving the 7th years was already atrocious, and while NEWTs were some nine months away, they used the excuse that they were only preparing them for the difficult exams ahead. Harry and Ron had already been given one of Hermione's famous homework/study schedules and while they groaned in exasperation, they were secretly glad to have someone telling them what to do. Left to their own devices, they would probably fail. Hermione, of course, knew this already and felt that they all just went through the motions of them being annoyed at her mothering and her insisting they take the damn schedules and study up.

She still kept at them about taking extra time to study the additional texts she had given them about spells that Hogwarts didn't teach. After all, it was only a school for students from 11 to 17 years old and there was no way they would be able to teach the grandiose amount of spells that existed in the wizarding word in a mere seven years. Many of the spells taught at Hogwarts were introductory at best until 6th and 7th year, and witches and wizards didn't actually learn a lot of the most useful spells until they were outside of Hogwarts. This included many household spells, or "shady" spells that weren't exactly encouraged at Hogwarts, even if the majority of the wizarding population used them. Harry and Ron said they were looking at the books when they had the time, but she just had to understand that this was their last year as students and there was a lot of homework, not to mention Quidditch was starting up.

"_Quidditch, _how obviously more important than what lay ahead," Hermione muttered to herself while she perused the library shelves. She was looking around for some of the reference texts that her book had mentioned. Being that it was Saturday evening, the library was mostly empty, save for a few studious Ravenclaws and the odd outcast here or there who really had nowhere else to be. Hermione settled into her favorite corner, levitating four books behind her, which were the only ones she could actually find on the main shelves of the library. She figured it was better to start here than to actually go straight into the Restricted Section. Soiling her goody-goody name with too many frequent visits there would have to come later, when she had run out of other options.

She slipped into one of her famous reading comas for the next six hours.

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On the opposite side of the library, unknown to one of its bushy-haired occupants, was Draco Malfoy. He had his school books piled around him, with several open in front of him, but he wasn't really looking at them. In fact he was staring off into space in deep thought.

To be honest, he wasn't even really there to study, after all it was Saturday night, _I mean, what kind of person was in the library tonight? _Well, he was, but only because he was hiding. He let his mind wander to where they usually strayed…

Returning this year had been a mistake, as he had known before returning. But, unfortunately, there was nowhere else for him to go. Voldemort had a price on his head, not only because of his failure to assassinate his headmaster, but also because he had failed to immediately return with Snape for his punishment. He had hesitated at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, just outside the anti-apparition wards of the castle. Most of the other death eaters had already Apparated away to the Dark Lord, but Gibbon and Snape remained and looked back at him, seeing the traitorous emotions flashing across his face.

"Having second thoughts, Malfoy?" Gibbon sneered, seemingly forgetting about Apparating in exchange for a few moments of torturing the worthless boy he saw in front of him. In his mind, there was no reason the arrogant, faithless boy should have been given a task of such high esteem.

Draco hesitated. This was something he had gotten himself into, and his hair was already falling out from the sheer desperation he felt the entire year of finding the impossible way for the Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts. There was sweat on his forehead as he looked at Gibbon, and then flashed his eyes towards Snape, whose face remained impassive and hard. Draco saw Snape's shoulder twitch and his eyes flash, as if fighting off some kind of episode. Draco wondered briefly if the man had the ability to cry. Could he even feel anymore? What must it have felt like, fulfilling the Dark Lord's orders and killing Albus Dumbledore? He wouldn't know of course, because he just _couldn't do it…_

"You're a pathetic, weak piece of shit, junior," Gibbon said, burning hate into the young boys retinas. Gibbon saw the apprehension on his face; the panic. Draco's silvery blue eyes were swirling with horror and poorly managed self control. What had just happened within the walls was finally catching up to him. As the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins slipped away, so was his world. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Of course he was superior to everyone in this Merlin forsaken school, and maybe it even had to do with his unsoiled bloodline, but killing people? _Killing people?_ Was this what he was being reduced to? He was being trained to be a murderer, a silly puppet with a psychopath pulling the strings. For Circe's sake he didn't like the mudbloods much, but he didn't really want to _kill _them!

Draco's eyes flashed between Gibbon and Snape again. His breathing was coming in short bursts and he could feel the salty sweat from his forehead dripping into his eyes and he furiously wiped at them with the back of his clammy hands. His normally immaculate blond hair was lying limp and he looked like hell. And he felt like it too. He was completely frozen stiff as he watched the dangerous man, Gibbon, approach him like he was some kind of prey. And still Draco couldn't move. He finally understood the phrase "like a deer caught in headlights" and he couldn't feel more like a weak prey animal, practically begging a predator to eat him alive.

_Just kill me, please. Just kill me. I can't go back to Hogwarts. I don't want to go back to the Dark Lord. I don't want to be on the run. Just kill me. _He was looking at Snape who looked even closer to mania than he did seconds before. The years of emotional training was keeping him from falling apart like Draco was right then. But Snape couldn't kill Draco, no matter how much the boy wanted it. He had just gone through one extreme altruistic act less than an hour before, killing the only man he ever looked up to, his only mentor, his only father-like figure. _Albus. _He couldn't go through that again so quickly after.

But he could help the boy, in his own way. Draco knew how to Apparate, so he could follow if he really wanted to, but it was not a good time to keep the Dark Lord waiting. With thoughts of protecting Draco, Snape approached Gibbon from behind and grabbed a hold of his elbow and forced him into side-along Apparition.

Draco watched as both Death Eaters disappeared in front of him soundlessly. He didn't even really feel relief. He didn't feel anything. His body was in shock as he stared out into the Forbidden Forest. There was odd hooting and crunching sounds in the distance, but not even a werewolf could make him move his feet just then. It was only after a long time of simply staring into space that Draco fell to his knees, and then laid down on the hard forest floor. He curled into the smallest ball that he could, and began to shake.

He stayed that way for hours before his body finally took pity upon him and shut down, placing him in a deep sleep for a full two days after. When he awoke, he barely had the energy to force himself into a sitting position and lean against a nearby tree. He knew he hadn't eaten in nearly four days, since even before the attack. He had been under so much stress, it simply hadn't occurred to him to eat.

It was Fang, Hagrid's dog, who found him staring blankly into the forest once more. He didn't bother to think of anything at all. He just listened to the birds chirping or watched the beetles crawling across his pant leg in a detached manner. Fang had tried to grab hold of his robes and pull him into a standing position, but Draco just gazed at him as if he were just another tree. Fang quickly realized his tactics were useless, and ran off again. Less than an hour later, Hagrid returned with his faithful dog to see why the mutt was so worked up.

Hagrid tried asking him questions, to which he would just stare at him blankly as if not recognizing that the sounds coming out of his mouth were something he should understand. Hagrid had to carry him up to the castle, straight to the infirmary, by which time the boy had passed out again. The rest was history. He didn't have any ulterior motives for staying, other than the fact that this was the safest place for him to survive the wrath of the Dark lord and his faithful followers. He simply didn't have anywhere else to go, and after interrogating him via Veritaserum and also retrieving his memories and viewing them in a pensieve, they decided to let him stay. He merely didn't argue.

And here he was in the only place that he could live out his miserable existence, but at the same time it was his own personal prison. He was hiding in the library, hiding from all the people he used to call his friends, hiding from the people he used to make fun of, hiding from everyone. People actually threw things at him now. They insulted him and assaulted him in the hallways and it was even worse within the Slytherin dungeons. He had to constantly watch his back for his fellow students, as if he wasn't already paranoid enough of Death Eaters somehow getting into Hogwarts again and slicing him from navel to nose. He walked around with a constant Occlumency shield up, as well as a repelling charm. His wand was _always_ clutched tightly in his hand inside the pocket of his robes whether he was in the hallways, in class, or asleep in his bed. He had no side anymore. He felt like everyone was against him, and he was against them. A loner, an outcast.

He shuddered and looked down at the book in front of him. There was no way he was getting anything done tonight, but he didn't plan on leaving until right before curfew, which was in about five minutes. He closed up all his unread books and stacked up all his unused parchment and then merely sat there and spaced out until he was forced to return to his rooms.

* * *

Hermione was reluctant to return to her rooms, but alas curfew was upon her. She wanted to do a bit more research, but she had done rather a lot for the night, and besides, she could still take up a book or two to her room. She headed to Madam Pince's desk to check out a few. To be honest though, there wasn't a whole lot of helpful information to be found on the main shelves of the library and it seemed as though she was going to have to make her first entrance into the Restricted Section of the year earlier than she anticipated.

After thanking the librarian cheerfully (who stared at her with only slightly less contempt than the other students), Hermione turned to leave for Gryffindor tower. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. Directly to her right, the only one sitting at one of the tables, was Draco Malfoy. His eyes were glassy and his mouth lay in a straight, tight line. All the books in front of him were closed, and it didn't look like he had written anything at all on any pieces of parchment, because they all looked blank from her angle. Besides his blank expression, which she had caught him sporting in the classes they shared as well, she found it odd that he hadn't even noticed that she had been staring at him for close to a minute. It was just so _strange._ This was not the Draco Malfoy that she knew. His hair was still impeccable, and she could see that he was dressed very smartly underneath his open robes, but the robes themselves were rumpled and his wand was clutched tightly in his right hand. Still he didn't notice her.

_Should I say something? He looks so out of it. Also, it's almost curfew. It's Malfoy, what am I thinking?_

With this she shook her head and decided to just head back up to the common room. Malfoy wasn't her problem, after all. Well, he _was _a problem in general. She took one step in the direction of the exit when Malfoy seemed to come to. He also shook his head as if to clear some clutter from his mind and then turned a sharp gaze to her. His eyes narrowed and he actually bared his teeth at her like an animal.

She opened her mouth in a perfect, comical "O" and jumped back a little, startled that he was looking at her so menacingly. Just a second before, he had the most vacant expression on his face and now he looked like some crazed person. She silently asked herself if she was imagining his spaced-out look from before, but knew she wasn't. She closed her mouth and her face flushed. He glared at her harder and she took that as her cue to leave. Hurriedly, she shuffled out of the library, and nearly broke into a run once she had rounded the corner.

Draco softened his face. Well, at least he could still scare off Granger, the nosey little chit.

* * *

The next day, Sunday, found Draco hiding in the library again by 7 AM which was the opening hour. The few boys that shared sleeping quarters with him had sauntered in, still drunk at 5 AM from the night before. It seemed they apparently didn't think he had the right to sleep peacefully, and had set off several of the Weasley twin's fireworks underneath his bed. He woke up yelling out stunning curses, but missed everyone due to being half asleep and all the bright lights from the fireworks assaulting his eyes. The boys were huddling in a corner, guffawing like idiots. He cast a few very strong Conjunctivitis spells on a few of them before he left, causing them the shriek in pain and start rubbing their eyes like drunken madmen. He left the room in a rage, only to return with murder in his eyes and yell out "Confrigo!" twice, causing the remaining unaffected boy's beds to explode into flames. _Bastards._

Thereafter he had wondered around the grounds until breakfast was served at 6 AM and then immediately went to the library. Besides, after one of his many lapses into the past yesterday, and his constant harassment every other day, he still had quite a few rolls of parchment to fill up with dreary homework. Cynically, he thought maybe during his breaks between homework he could research how to blow up the school and everyone, including himself, in it.

Granger strutted in around noon, her arms laden with books. She sat suspiciously close to him, thinking he didn't notice, but he did. She was casting him shifty glances every time she thought he wasn't looking. It was bloody annoying. Couldn't she see he wanted to wallow in self pity by himself? He let out a low growl of annoyance.

Hermione sat closer to Malfoy than she had ever willingly put herself, outside of class. Granted, she was still about five tables away, but she thought that was enough to not be suspicious. She just wanted to see why he was in the library acting so odd. Hermione Granger was the reason the phrase "curiosity killed the cat" was invented. Besides, being a Gryffindor didn't usually involve tact, just blunt observation or attack usually did the trick, right? She took the time to glance at him when he was immersed in his books and wouldn't notice. He didn't look nearly as crazed as the night before, though there were still dark circles under his eyes. She wondered if he was up to something in the middle of the night.

"Granger! What the bloody hell are you staring at? For Merlin's sake, you've been staring like an idiot for half an hour now!" Malfoy finally snapped, narrowing his eyes at her in irritation. _I might as well take all my frustration out on her._

To his immense pleasure, Hermione started to sputter like a goldfish out of water, caught off guard by being caught.

"I don't have all day Granger, spit it out! Do you fancy me now? Do you want to throw something at me? Well? What is it?" Malfoy said, being unnecessarily petulant as usual. She just irked him, and he didn't need a better reason than that. He watched as the know-it-all stammered some more, unused to being addressed by him at all, let alone outside of class.

Finally, wildly making up an excuse she blurted out, "Why haven't you really harassed me yet this year?" She immediately slapped a hand to her forehead at her stupidity. Draco simply raised an eyebrow and didn't answer.

"I-I-I mean, what I mean to say is, erm," Hermione stuttered, her face turning furiously red. She really sounded like a bloody idiot now, curse her morbid curiosity with finding something out about him today. "Nevermind," She finished lamely, cutting her losses.

Draco snorted loud enough for her to hear five tables over, and returned to his book, feigning indifference. He heard her clear her throat in the rather annoying way she did, but he didn't hear another peep from her. _Why _hadn't _he harassed her this year? Or Pothead and the Weasel, for that matter? Well, maybe he should start up again._ But even thinking this, he immediately dismissed the notion. Not only did he not have the energy to start up that old school war, but he found he just didn't care enough. It used to be about making them seethe or overall making their life hell, but as his own life was already a living hell, he didn't really think he would be quite as effective. Not that he cared about their feelings, mind you. He just didn't see the point anymore. Although, for the annoying chit that resided five tables over maybe he could make an exception, if she kept harassing him.

Hermione was flipping through her Legilimency book when she had a thought pop into her head. _What if the ferret knew how to do Legilimency or Occlumency?_ But she dismissed it quickly, realizing it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't help her anyway. But the idea kept popping uninvited into her thoughts. _He had been a Death Eater after all, so surely he had been taught _something. _And if he was here, he couldn't be all that dangerous, could he? _She shooed away her thoughts and kept reading, but five minutes later, her thoughts had returned. _Regardless, he's still an asshole, and he would never help. He has nothing to gain from it, and Malfoy has never been particularly selfless. Bloody git._ She switched to her Occlumency training book. At least with this, she could start to practice on her own at night, clearing her mind of clutter and such. So, perhaps she could make leeway before she found a suitable person to help her with the practical portion.

She looked over at Malfoy who now seemed to be keenly aware of when she glanced over at him. He sneered at her, turning his lip up in a grimace reserved only for her. She smiled condescendingly at him and turned back to her book. _Git._

An hour later, as he was flipping through his potions book, he realized Granger was the first person to speak to him, without menace that is, outside of the required fraternizing in classes. Bloody hell; was his life really this shitty? With this thought, he got up to grab a quick lunch. He was only gone for twenty minutes, but when he returned, Hermione had gone.

* * *

Hermione went to the Headmistress to ask her if she knew anyone that would be able to help her with the tasks she was interested in, but she didn't help much. She suggested asking around the Gryffindor common room and surely some people could help her. Some help she was. Grumbling, she furtively asked around, but no one knew much of anything and pointed her in the direction of the Ravenclaws.

The next week found Hermione and Draco barely cooperating in DADA as Hermione had yet to ask him anything about Legilimency, Occlumency, or why he's such a bloody git. Frankly, they didn't really have anything to talk about at all, and when they did speak to each other when forced to work together with their group on assignments, it resulted in more than just a few points taken away from their respective houses from all the yelling that ensued. Harry and Ron sent her more apologetic looks, but they didn't help.

The Saturday following their past encounter in the library found Hermione getting up from her favorite corner in the library, stuffing her books in her bag and making for the exit, as it was once again almost curfew. Curiosity getting the better of her, she wandered around some shelves to another section of tables that couldn't be seen from the entrance or from her "special corner". She found Draco Malfoy fast asleep, drooling on what appeared to be a charms essay. She contemplated waking him up, because it was close to curfew and he was soiling his essay, but was reasonably reluctant to help him at all. The only reason she was considering it was because she was still toying with the idea of asking him to help her, but just couldn't figure out a good enough reason to convince him. Plus she was Hermione Granger, and interfering with what would better be left alone was something she frequently did.

She had only been considering waking him for about three seconds, when Madame Pince bustled over and started yelling for them to get out because it was closing time. Her shrill screeches immediately caused Draco to awaken with a start, the parchment sticking to his face as he jerked his head off the table. Hermione tried to stifle a condescending giggle.

After casting her a sarcastic look and then immediately ignored her presence (although he found it suspicious), he turned to the less-than-pleasant librarian who was peering down at him over her hooked nose. "Oh, come on Madame Pince, can't I just sleep here one night? I won't even touch anything!" Malfoy groaned, already knowing her answer. He just couldn't catch a break, and the boys in Slytherin were getting more ruthless and creative in their attempts to thwart his sleeping, regardless of the spells he cast around his bed before going to sleep.

"No, no, and no Mister Malfoy. I have told you before, no students allowed in the library after fifteen minutes before curfew. You know the rules. Now out with both of you!" She announced shrilly. Draco cringed at the pitch of her voice, but Hermione was far too used to it by now to hardly notice. Besides that, she had just gotten an idea.

"Malfoy, why do you want to sleep in the library, of all places?" Hermione started, latching onto her famous Gryffindor bravery.

"The real question is: why are you here right now pestering me? And what were you doing over before that? Stalking me, now?" Draco drawled, clearly too worn out to put much venom behind his words, but still wishing she would just leave already.

Hermione decided to kick her boldness up a few notches. She ignored his questions and implications and just continued on track. "Well, as I see it, if you want to sleep here then you can't be getting good enough sleep where you usually sleep, which would be in the Slytherin dungeons. Since you've likely never had a problem sleeping there before, I must ask myself why you couldn't sleep there now. What is different from this year from last year, I ask myself…" Okay, so she was being a bit of a twit about it, but Malfoy was foul and vile and she couldn't resist.

"Just what makes you think –" Draco started but Hermione cut him off.

"Then I think, well last year, he had never tried and failed to kill our Headmaster so, maybe he's not receiving such a friendly welcome back," Hermione spit out, knowing kindness wouldn't help her out with him anyway.

"You better watch your tongue, Mudblood," Draco said, reverting back to his old insults. Hermione continued, unphased.

"The point is I think I know what's going on… and I think I have a solution for you," Hermione summed up, knowing he was getting close his Granger-limit for the evening. She walked up an arm's length away. Draco paused for a moment, unsure.

"And just why would I take any advice from you?" He spat, though he was secretly curious.

"Because you have circles the size of dinner plates around your eyes and you're never going to be able to get all your homework done and pass your NEWTs if you don't sleep all year. You need my help, face it," Hermione said smugly, poking him in the chest for dramatic effect.

At this moment, Madame Pince returned and started physically pushing them towards the exit, interrupting their tête-à-tête. Affronted, Hermione straightened her robes before continuing, surprised that Malfoy had even bothered to stick around to hear her out at all. He must really be losing it.

"Just follow me if you want to see, we only have a few minutes or we're going to be late for curfew," Hermione said, turning on her heel and marching away.

Draco stared after her for a minute, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Annoying know-it-all", but then reluctantly trailed after her. He followed her to the staircase that led to the floor directly underneath the Great Hall, which was also the staircase the Hufflepuff's took to get to their dormitories. He knew this only because of his reign of terror on the inquisitorial squad in his fifth year. Hermione approached a rather large painting of a bowl of fruit that he had always disregarded. To his amusement, she reached up and tickled the pear. He was just about to make a scathing remark, when amazingly, the pear giggled and the painting began to swing forward, allowing them entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens.

Immediately after Hermione had given Draco her best tempestuous look, a small house elf came hurrying into view from another room.

"Friend of Harry Potter! O-o-oh and former m-m-master Draco," The elf stuttered upon seeing the blond boy that had mistreated him years before.

"Hello Dobby," Hermione said kindly, casting Draco another dark look, "I know this blond idiot caused you some trouble before but I need a favor. On behalf of Harry Potter of course." Draco snorted at this but remained silent. "I need you to show me those beds again, would that be alright? Malfoy won't hurt you," She implored, and then turned to Draco and said, "_Will_ you Malfoy?"

"I won't," he bit out.

"R-r-right then, r-right this way!" Dobby said, still looking rather apprehensive. They followed him into a side room of the kitchens where there were a few extra empty beds. It looked like a storage room.

"Why do you know about this, Granger," Draco asked her, surprised that he was actually curious.

"Well, sometimes the girls in Gryffindor tower can be a little, well, _you know._ And I've had to escape from attempts at makeovers and silly talks about boys more than a few times, so I come down here. Dobby showed me back in 3rd year. It's not _strictly_ allowed, so I'd keep your mouth shut about it if I were you," Hermione finished, surprised that he was actually curious.

Draco paused then, his brain finally catching up to him, and cast her a very suspicious look, "Wait a minute Granger, why are you helping me?"

"Well you see, I sort of need a favor…"

* * *

**Please review and let me know what you think! I live for reviews!**

**P.S. J.K. Rowling does actually capitalize Apparate for some reason, which is why I do. Just FYI.**


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